


Meet Me In Black

by Anonymous



Category: Real Person Fiction, Unus Annus - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous Love, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Annus - Freeform, Dark, Dark Character, Dark Fantasy, Ethan Nestor's Alters, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kidnapping, Krymménos, Light Angst, M/M, Markiplier Alters, Markiplier's Alters, Morally Ambiguous Character, No Blood, No Smut, Not Canon Compliant, Potentially Unrequited Love, Reality Bending, Reality Warp, Unrequited Love, Unus - Freeform, Unus Annus, no injury, no violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27360973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Have you figured it out yet, Mark?" Ethan asked, head tilting slowly in a smooth, almost mechanical movement. The shadows danced across his face like they were fluid, casting one eye in darkness and the other in the dim light."Figured outwhat?!" He barked in response, patience worn thin, wrists sore from the chaffing of the rope and tape."I'm not him," Ethan said, and smiled slowly.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach & Unus, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Mark Fischbach/Unus, Unus/Annus
Comments: 27
Kudos: 289
Collections: Anonymous





	Meet Me In Black

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by _The Truth of Unus Annus_ and the major horror-eerie movie vibes. As always this work is intended creatively and is in no way a reflection of reality nor intended as any disrespect towards the persons mentioned; their family; friends or romantic partners. Please do not send this work to any of the above mentioned.  
> Remember to always treat people with kindness.  
> -JJH

His head hurt. 

That was the first thing he noticed, when consciousness came back to him, slowly and thickly like molasses. His whole body felt stiff but his head felt cottony and heavy, and he realised after a moment that part of that was because his head was lolling forwards, unsupported by the pillow he'd gone to sleep on. He groaned softly and tried to move his hand forwards, but it wouldn't go any further than behind his hip, and that made the next realisation the fact that his hands were bound behind him. He forced his eyes open wider and realised he was surrounded by darkness, save for the weak halo of a far away flashlight.

"Wh'th'fuck?" He breathed, squinting in the darkness as he slowly straightened up. His spine ached and his arms tingled a little where his body weight had pulled the muscles and restricted a little of the bloodflow. He was on a chair, and when he tried to move his legs he realised they were taped at the ankles, too. He licked at his teeth as he tried to trawl his memory through the various hostage and bondage themed videos, wondering if he had any knowledge of escaping bounds that were behind your back. 

"Did you have sweet dreams, sleepyhead?" Came a soft and familiar voice, a little lower and steadier than normal. Despite everything relief washed over him automatically at the voice, and he slowly tipped his head around, trying to find Ethan in the darkness. 

"Ethan? Th'fuck?" He rasped, straining against the bonds again. The tape was tight, and when he flexed his wrists it almost felt as though there was a thin line of rope around them, too. A soft tutting sound came from the darkness in front of him, and then Ethan's face came into view, leaning forwards into the weak outskirts of the light. 

"Guess again," he uttered softly, head tipping a little. Mark strained his vision and could just barely make out that Ethan was sitting on a table, and when he swept his gaze around again he realised they must be in the house they'd filmed the earlier days' videos at, from what he could see of the room. This must be some sort of bit or other video. Annoyance settled into his bones, leaden and hot. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you, man? What did you do?" He asked heavily, leaning back in the seat and attempting to free his arms once more. Ethan watched him curiously, gaze open and unconcerned. His hands were clasped atop his upper thighs, and Mark noticed after a moment he was wearing his black Unus suit. The skin around his eyes was shaded pinks, purples and blues, like he hadn't slept for days on end. His hair was still styled in an artful quiff, sweeping slightly to the right where it had grown longer over the past few weeks. 

"It hurts him when you speak to him like that". Ethan's voice was so soft it was somewhere between a whisper and a murmur, his expression now a mock pout. "He doubts himself anyway, but every time you call him annoying or tell him not to touch you he wonders why he even moved out here for you in the first place," the other man continued, clicking his tongue lightly. Mark's frown deepened and he watched Ethan slide off the table, measured and graceful in a way the other man rarely was. 

"You look confused, Mark," Ethan whispered, stepping closer, stopping just inside the scope of the light. He stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back, watching Mark with a look that he had never quite seen on him before. It was so...Almost eerie. Like a doll, a carefully crafted expression that simply lacked the real vibrancy of any actual life and emotion. It made a shiver run down Mark's tight spine and his expression twisted. 

"Look, dude, I don't care what this is for. Its not _fucking_ cool. I don't know how-"

"I thought you were smarter than this". Ethan sounded almost sad, shaking his head lightly, gaze turning downcast for a moment as he scuffed a heel lightly against the floor. Mark blinked through a wave of dizziness, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to shake to hazy fog that clung stubbornly to his mind. Ethan glanced up at him again, and it might've been a trick of the light, but for a brief moment his eyes looked nothing but liquid black. 

"Have you figured it out yet, Mark?" Ethan asked, head tilting slowly in a smooth, almost mechanical movement. The shadows danced across his face like they were fluid, casting one eye in darkness and the other in the dim light.

"Figured out _what_?!" He barked in response, patience worn thin, wrists sore from the chaffing of the rope and tape.

"I'm not him" Ethan said, and smiled slowly. 

Mark wanted to laugh, wanted to spit out anger and rage, but he could do neither. There was a sense of _wrong_ about this whole thing, an alarm siren that screamed at him warningly and froze his voice on his tongue and his breath in his lungs. Ethan would never do something like this, weird and eccentric as he could be. All the kidnapping and 'darker' skits they'd done in the past had been thoroughly agreed upon, a bounce of ideas and consent. Hell, Mark had even _swum in the ocean_ for this guy. He wouldn't do that for someone who would drug and kidnap anyone, let alone his own friend. 

"This isn't funny". It was meant to come out forceful but it came out as nothing but a hoarse whisper, strained. This seemed to disappoint Ethan, who clicked his tongue before leaning forwards, looking at him attentively. 

"I'm not laughing," the other stated, calm and unconcerned before he straightened back up. "You _know_ its not a joke, Mark. You _feel_ it. Right down there in that beating little heart of yours. You _know_ this isn't your precious little push-over". His smile was lopsided now, something twisted and off-kilter about it, like all those images they'd looked at before where there was just _something_ you couldn't put your finger on. He wondered briefly if Ethan had snapped - If this was the culmination of Ethan's mental health collapsing, hyperfixating on all the darker themed stuff they'd been doing lately. 

"You still don't believe me," Ethan remarked as he stepped closer. He was still smiling and he sounded amused as he prowled further into the light, stopping just shy of Mark's splayed knees. He felt angry and nauseas both, torn between blowing up at whatever sick game this was and throwing up from the lingering effects of whatever he'd been dosed with. Ethan sank slowly down onto one knee in front of him, eyes wide and dark when he tipped his head back, catching Mark's eye where the older man bent forwards, sucking in sharp breaths. 

In front of his very eyes a black inkiness spread across Ethan's eyes, drowning out the colour until it looked like someone had filled them up with pure ink, shiny in the weak light. Between one blink and the next Ethan's whole face seemed to _glitch_ , a flicker too quick to fully catch but vaguely familiar.

Like skull face paint.

A hallucinogenic? Maybe, but his body didn't seem convinced, fear lancing through him and joined by nervousness. He tried to break through the bonds again and Ethan grinned, shushing him softly. The rest of the house was completely silent, nothing but apparently empty darkness when he glanced around wildly. He couldn't see any other lights. No cameras, though that was not to say there wasn't one or more hidden in the vicinity. 

"Ethan-" He began, but the other simply _tsked_ softly, head shaking. 

"Ethan isn't home right now," he spoke, his voice suddenly warped and too deep, hitching and glitching like a voice-effect in a horror film. His face seemed to glitch again then, eyes the same liquid black, except it spilled down his face like tears now, there and then gone between blinks. 

No technology was _that_ good yet. There was no mask or screen that could do that, and he could see no microphones or wires, no cameras or pods or _anything_. His breathing hitched of its own accord and he found himself helpless but to watch as the other's expression softened. The other stood, swinging a leg over Mark's splayed thighs and settling atop them lightly, hands gentle on the curve of his waist. 

"You let us in, Mark. You _made_ us. You know who I am," the other uttered gently, one hand reaching up to run lightly through Mark's hair. 

"Its not possible," he whispered, defiant until the last moment, still clinging to the belief that this was some prank taken way too far. He was on the cusp of believing in ghosts, an open mind when it came to almost everything, but this? That their made-up personas were in any way real and not just fourth-wall characters made up to continue to theme of the channel, a fan theory they'd taken and spun into an actual component of Unus Annus?

There was another explanation, of course. 

He was dreaming. 

That had to be it. It would explain the situation, the strange effects. He'd had stranger dreams, in any case. Some involving Ethan, though never anything along these lines. His body relaxed a little, subconsciously soothed by the plausible proposition. The other only smiled knowingly, tutting a little as he shook his head. 

" _Wrong,_ " he announced cheerfully, hand dropping back to Mark's waist. "I know what that smart little brain is thinking. But _you_ opened the door. _You_ let us in. All this playing around with death and ghosts. All those secret little nights spent sat in front of a Ouija board or staring at old Latin. You even gave us _names,_ " the other noted with a slight air of mocking glee, his smile still not quite right on Ethan's face. 

"I'm just dreaming this," Mark announced firmly, shaking his head, leaning away from where the other sat over him like he was some sort of lover. The other pouted then, like Ethan did whenever Mark said _don't do that_ or _don't touch me_. 

"Annus had _much_ more fun with his," the other huffed, looking faux forlorn. "He thought it was a dream too. But he caught on quicker than you. Better than you. Don't you _hate_ that? Ethan Nestor; ADHD spastic, better than Mark Fischbach," the other announced like a sports commentator, grinning sharply at him. 

"Don't insult him," it was out of his mouth before he could even give the words actual thought, but he figured that it couldn't hurt. This was his dream, in any regard. He could defend Ethan if he wanted to. He could say those words, reflexive, and have no repercussions. 

The other smiled wider, though it was less sharp, head tilting slightly. Mark frowned then, suffering through the uncomfortable proximity to mull over the previous words. 

"What do you mean, ' _Annus had much more fun with his_ '?" 

The other still smiled, glancing up as though in thought, pulling a light face with the corners of his mouth pulled in consideration, shrugging lightly. "Annus is part of you, Mark. Pragmatic, a real go-getter. He knew exactly what he wanted. He didn't make _half_ the effort I have, though," the other noted wistfully, sucking air in softly through his teeth, like he was disappointed at the fact. 

"Of course, Ethan's in love with you, so he didn't have to _work_ half as hard, either," the other mused, raising a hand to tap his chin thoughtfully. Mark's heart came to a staggered halt in his chest, the words a rush of ice water over his head. _Ethan was in love with him?_ It was a dream, but the 'news' was still shocking as it was. Mark had never considered anything of the sort, had never really thought about their relationship past the fact that somewhere along the line he'd learned to trust in Ethan completely, to think of him as another addition to his life associated with happiness and, to a degree, love. 

He'd never dreamed of anything along this line, either. All of this was like some strange culmination of every dream he'd never had, bundled into one confusing and slightly terrifying mash-up. 

"He's never-" He croaked, unable to finish the sentence. 

"Said anything? Brought up any nightly visits from your most recent 'Ego'? Mm, no. Why would he? Half the time he's too scared to be your _friend_ , let alone tell you that for the past three years he's been falling deeper and deeper into your darkness" the other breathed, squeezing his waist lightly before leaning back a little, settling his weight on Mark's thighs and swinging his legs like he was sat on a park bench or wall. 

"As for Annus, well. You're not _wholly_ wrong. This isn't a dream, Mark. But it isn't _quite_ reality, either. This is a space all of our own making, just to spend time with you. Isn't that wonderful, Mark? Oh, the channel will be ending soon. So sad. But you and I? He and him? We're not going anywhere. We're all going to be together for a _long_ time; the four of us. Its going to be so much _fun_ ". The other moved away from him as he spoke, standing upright just outside of his spread legs, hands tucked into his pockets carelessly. 

Mark let out a breath, and the only thing he could think to say was "who is the four of us?" Even as he realised, with a sinking feeling, that he knew.

The other smiled slowly and turned his head off to the left, gazing demurely into the shadows. 

He turned his head slowly, heart pounding wildly in his chest. The flashlight glare bounced off the mirror, making him squint for a moment, and he almost wished it had blinded him completely. When his vision cleared, he stared in growing horror at the mirror.

His reflection smiled slowly at him, that dark and shark-like smirk he only typically applied when doing 'Darkiplier' or 'Annus' bits. Where he wore a thin shirt and the sweatpants he'd gone to bed in, his reflection was dressed in a crisp, white suit, hair neatly brushed and framing his face in soft, artful waves. Where the other stood was Ethan, sat in a chair facing Annus, similarly bound like Mark, his head lolled down, unconscious to the world, a thick strip of black tape across his mouth.

His reflection winked at him blatantly and then turned its head, looking away. He did the same, breathing shallow and fast as his heart thumped so wildly it almost _hurt_. 

Unus leaned down slowly, head tilting as he braced his hands lightly atop Mark's thighs, fingernails digging in just lightly before his right hand came up, cupping Mark's cheek tenderly. They were close now, so close he could smell the mint toothpaste on Unus' breath, could see the sharp clarity of his empty eyes. 

It could have been a trick of his own hearing, but Mark could swear he could hear the _tick, tick, tick_ of a timer, slow and steady in the background as the darkness began to creep into the edges of his vision again, slowly pulling him under. 

" _Momento mori,_ " Unus whispered, and tipped his head up, pressing the softest of kisses between his eyes as he succumbed to the pull of the dark, his head lolling forwards against Unus' chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore fics that surround the Unus/Annus alters. We definitely need more of them. Any volunteers?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [All Souls Dressed in White](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410110) by [ardett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett)




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